I'm actually posting on the morning after Day One. I'm not one of these dedicated bloggers . . .

Some scattered impressions:

There's nothing like singing Evensong with 150 really fine singers and a top-notch organist. The effect is somewhat spoiled when one gets in the car afterwards and Paula Abdul is singing on the 80's channel.

I think I'm going to like the conference chaplain. I wonder if he'll stay in clericals the whole time, though. I like my priests to look like priests. But if last night's homily is any indication, he's a good preacher.

There are a lot more youngish people here than I would have thought. There are even some young gay guys. (One looked as if he had wandered in by mistake from a casting call for Queer as Folk extras.) Generally at something like this I would expect mostly your old queens, with some of your almost-middle-aged curmudgeons, but no one younger than 35. I fear I may be the only almost-middle-aged curmudgeon here.

Even in a choir of talented singers, there are people who have never learned that vibrato is a tool, not a condition.

I'm not sure even Bruce Neswick can get this many people to do the shapely, sinewy Anglican chant he likes.

The chapel instrument is an electronic -- state of the art, the very latest thing, and all that. But it's not an organ. I never thought I would become such a purist, but it's true: nothing substitutes for air flowing through pipes. I listened to the prelude and postlude last night -- beautifully played, of course, and fine music from Hurd and Hancock -- thinking "Not bad, for an electronic." And I don't have a particularly good ear, so I can imagine how real musicians feel. I'm looking forward to the two recitals this week, which will be on the real organs at Sewanee.